Now That It's Over
by TyLeeChan
Summary: Aftermath: Five stories involving what happens to five different groups of characters in the wake of the great spark removal. An epilouge of sorts.
1. Fear Itself

**Here it is. The start of the Aftermath epilouge. We start out featuring two characters that didn't get as much time as I wanted in the main Aftermath series. Skywarp and Thundercracker. It's a bit of a sequel to Consuelo Higdon's oneshot 'Captain', which tells what happened to Thundercracker. You all should read it. It's really good. **

**Anyways, as for other information you have to know, this whole epilouge will be in chronological order. This happens right when everyone is returned to their chassis. Enjoy!**

* * *

Skywarp was surprised at how cold the Well of All Sparks was. Or was he in the Pit? He knew that he had never done anything bad enough to deserve it. He had barely been online long enough to, and a majority of that time he had been in stasis cuffs. He impulsively shuddered, remembering his previous fear of stasis lock. Although he was generally over his cowardice, a few phobias still remained. Only reasonable ones, he was sure.

As his surroundings began to come into focus, he realized that he had seen this place before. Was the afterlife supposed to be familiar? And cold? He blinked to remove all of the fog from in front of his viz scanners, rubbing around his faceplate at the same time.

The Well of All Sparks…what was it supposed to be like? He never was taught anything about it. He had snippets of information about it from the memories passed on to him from Starscream. Most of that, though, was whining about the fact that his creator was never getting to that elusive paradise. Paradise. He had called it that, hadn't he? Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Skywarp!?"

His viz scanners jolted open, looking around in every direction to find the source of the voice. No longer was it too difficult to concentrate on his location. He was on an asteroid. No, _the_ asteroid. The one that he had been stuck on before he had had his spark taken. But that wasn't important. The voice. It was the `bot he had been so concerned about. He was here too!

"Thundercracker? Thundercracker!?" He cried.

There he was. On the other side of the asteroid, staring at him in disbelief. Skywarp had never been happier to see his brother in his life.

"You're online." Thundercracker said softly. He walked over, kicking aside a pair of stasis cuffs that he apparently had been messing with.

Skywarp processed this. Thundercracker said he was online. So that meant he wasn't in any form of an afterlife. Somehow, some way, he had returned to his chassis. He had a faint recollection of travelling after that bright flash of light had dominated his vision, but he had assumed that that was his journey to the next world. Assumed falsely, as it would seem. What had happened for him to get back here?

Ah, it didn't matter. What mattered was that he was still online, and it was the first time he had ever felt this confident.

"Yeah…yeah, I am!" He realized aloud.

"That's good." He sighed, "I was afraid that you weren't coming back."

"You were _afraid_?" Skywarp exclaimed incredulously.

Thundercracker paled. "N-No! Of course not! I…It's a figure of speech!"

"Then what do you mean?" Skywarp asked, getting onto his stabilizing servos.

"I mean…I mean that nobot of my caliber gets scared! Not like you."

"Not like me…" He repeated. "But I'm not like that anymore!"

"Please. Watch this."

Thundercracker put his fingers an inch away from Skywarp's faceplate and snapped them. He blinked.

"What was that supposed to do?" He asked.

Thundercracker frowned. "You…you usually scream and cover your head with your hands…and sometimes jump around."

"I told you! I'm not like that anymore!"

"How?"

Skywarp shrugged. "Wish I knew. But we all seemed to get a bit different."

"'We all'?"

"The clones."

Thundercracker seemed to consider this. Then he went over and grabbed the stasis cuffs he had left on the ground. When he came back over he waved them menacingly in Skywarp's direction, making what was supposed to be frightening sounds. Once again, it did little to nothing to stir any strong emotions inside of Skywarp. Except amusement.

"Well…obviously I, the superior of the clones, would not forego such changes. I'm already too perfect to be anything different."

Skywarp decided to ignore this. It was just Thundercracker being Thundercracker. He knew not to take it seriously.

"You really wouldn't believe it, Thundercracker! I stood up to Dirge without even flinching!" He gushed, "And Blitzwing! I met one of Megatron's top lieutenants and didn't cower. Not even once!!"

Thundercracker gave a small smile. Not one of his sadistic, 'I'm-so-much-better-than-you-haha-bow-before-me-and-kiss-my-stabilizing-servos' smiles. No. It was genuine, and it expressed something Skywarp had not seen in his brother before: Pride. He was proud of what he had done.

"I'm brave now! I can do things that I couldn't do before! It's so great!" Skywarp was so excited, he felt like going to find some inferior life form and scaring it to see what it was like to be on the other side of the fear game.

"Yeah…it is…" Thundercracker said. Then he shook his head, erasing the smile from his visage, "But, don't get so cocky. Remember: _I'm_ the bravest `bot in the universe. You'll never compare to my bravery ever in your pathetic lifetime."

"Of course, Thundercracker." Skywarp replied with a grin. "Whatever you say."


	2. The Spaces Between My Fingers

**Jettwins :3**

* * *

It seemed to Jetfire that he had been staring at that light for an eternity.

He could feel the tubes and wires connected to him, feeding fluids into his internal processors. Could hear the loud frantic voices discussing how to keep him online. If he was paying more attention he would probably be able to identify the `bots attending to him. One or two of them sounded fairly recognizable.

All he had the will to do, though, was to continue staring at that light flickering above him.

His chassis felt like a weight. A cold, heavy weight. It was pushing him down, pinning him to the berth he was propped on. As if his memories weren't pressing hard enough against him. The combined forces made his consciousness swim in and out of a dark, empty world of intense distress and confusion. He didn't know which place he disliked more: that reality, or the one that the medibots were desperately trying to call him back to.

Both of them had that one light shining into his viz scanners.

Jetfire knew he was once scared of going offline. Scared to hear his last sparkbeat. To feel the last bit of strength drain out of him. Not anymore. Now going offline was a means of escape, a way to get rid of the pain that was loading him down. To make him forget, have that inner peace that so long eluded him. Most importantly, there was the slim chance he would see his brother there.

The medibots were wasting their time. This is what Jetfire wanted. It was a vain effort to save somebot this determined not to be saved. He knew they would be disappointed to lose him, but it didn't change his decision. Besides, to them his death would probably be equivalent to a bad mark on their official records. A failure.

The light shook a bit as somebot slammed their servos hard, apparently on a table nearby or the wall.

He could still clearly remember the events before he had blacked out. He stiffened as it all came back. Vivid. Accurate. The screams. The flames. The gushing energon. And in the midst of it all: his twin. Half of himself, the only reason Jetfire had kept going on. The smell of burnt death surrounding his brother had been nauseating. It had flooded all of his senses. He had hated every moment of it, and yet he deserved it. It had been his fault that it was happening.

Now somebot was fumbling with some of his open circuitry, blocking the illumination of his light. If he hadn't decided to go offline he would've kindly asked whoever it was to move out of the way so that he could keep on looking. But now it was pointless. What would it matter whether he died staring at that stupid light or not? Why was he so possessive about it anyways? It was just a light, for spark's sake! Was he really this unstable? No doubt this proved why he needed to go offline. He was no longer able to function correctly.

A voice directed at him, not that this was anything new. `Bots had been trying to communicate with him since the nanoclick he woke up in this room, and he thought they would've known by now that he was going to be unresponsive. However, this time it was different. Jetfire could hear the voice, but it was like listening to an echo. It was audible both in his audio sensors and in his processor.

That could only mean one thing.

_Jetfire! Please to be staying vith me! Do not be leaving us! Please, please, PLEASE!!_

"…Jet…storm…?" Jetfire barely coughed out. His vocalizer sounded fuzzy. Probably on account that he had never planned on using it again. Funny how one's convictions could change so quickly.

Quiet. Dead silence. One word had never brought about such a stunned reaction. Jetfire tried to move his head to find out where he was, who else was in the room, but discovered several of those wires were connected to his processor, prohibiting him from turning.

Then the room erupted into noise. Everybot was speaking at once, either asking him questions or making exclamations of the utmost relief. He couldn't process what they were all saying, and instead of talking more he darted his viz scanners about, trying to see who they were from his peripherals. In the end they made it easier for him. Within a cycle they surrounded his berth, finally becoming visible. Red Alert. Wheeljack. Perceptor. And…Jetstorm.

Jetfire didn't understand how this was happening. He didn't understand why this was happening. And, oddly enough, it didn't bother him at all. All he cared about was that it was real. He would find out all of the back-story later.

"Hey, buddy, you feeling alright?" Wheeljack asked. Jetfire had rarely ever heard the sciencebot sound so solemn. Even after an experiment blowing up in his faceplate, he usually stayed optimistic. Maybe even cracked a joke.

"I…I…" Jetfire began. Was he alright? He wasn't sure.

Red Alert prevented him from answering. "Don't talk." She shoved a medical scanner to the side of his head, slowly bringing it up and down.

Don't talk? Fine then. He didn't need to talk.

_Jetstorm…are you being alright?_

He felt a rush of worry and yet some release emanating from his twin. More than that: his presence. How had he ever taken that for granted before? How had he not even noticed that Jetstorm was here earlier?

_Of course I am being fine. But you…you vere leaving us for awhile._

_I thought…I thought I vas…_

Jetstorm took a hold of his servo. _Thought vat, brother?_

_Thought…thought…_

Jetfire couldn't complete his sentence. He ran his finger over his brother's armor and froze. It felt corroded. Eaten away.

Burned.

As he directed his attention to the rest of Jetstorm, he could see more marks about his chassis. Blackened and charred. On his shoulders, chestplate, torso. Hiding his blue paintjob. Jetfire's insides twisted up, making him completely sick. Jetstorm noticed that he saw this, either by his pained expression or their bond.

_Is nothing, Jetfire. It-_

_I burned you._

_Just being scratches. Is not hurting._

Jetfire knew he was lying. He could feel the sore ache his brother was experiencing.

_Dirge could not be using your powers. He did not try to protect you from me. He let me…let me hurt you…_

_Brother, please stop. _Jetstorm's tone was firm. _I'm fine, and ve both know you vere not meaning to do that. I am being much more concerned about you. Vy did you vait until now to be answering us?_

_Vas not hearing you. Vas not being sure you vere still…you know, here._ He couldn't get his processor off of the injuries he had given his twin. Every time he went to talk his concentration was drawn back to those awful scalds. It took a lot of force to not agonize about it like Jetstorm told him.

_Brother, I have been trying to reach you for megacycles. _

Jetfire gulped. Everything around him seemed to be turning upside down. Had he really been ignoring Jetstorm for megacycles? How did that even happen? If their bond was back, he should've recognized him the moment he came back online.

_Am not knowing how I vas not hearing. I thought you vere offline…but…_

_Perceptor vas saying that you vere not all the vay here for awhile, so maybe that is vy._

"Done." Red Alert announced, retracting the device and keeping Jetstorm from elaborating, "Vitals seem stable. Though, you didn't make _that_ easy for us."

"Sorry." Jetfire muttered. "Okay to be talking now?"

Red Alert nodded. "Oh yeah. You better start doing some talking. Let's begin with why the slag you pulled that stunt back there."

"Alert…" Wheeljack said cautiously.

"Don't use that tone with me. You know very well I'm supposed to ask questions like that to diagnose my patient. I'm a doctor, slaggit!"

"Maybe you could be a tad less-"

"Jetstorm." Jetfire interrupted. "He is being hurt."

"Oh that." Red Alert waved him off, "Nothing serious. We're going to patch him up once your condition is no longer critical."

"Help him first, or I vill not be answering questions."

_Jetfire…_Jetstorm warned.

_Please, brother. Be letting me do this for you. Let me give you something to make up for a fraction of vat I vas doing._

_But, Jetfire, you being here is giving me everything I vanted. _He smiled softly and gave his servo a gentle squeeze.

Jetfire's spark swelled in happiness and affection for his twin.

_Same vith me. But please. Just this one thing._

_Okay. _

Red Alert wasn't quite as understanding. "What? What!? Do you have any idea how much attention you need? Your spark almost stopped beating. And you want us to use the time we have to fix you to tend to your barely injured brother!?"

"Actually, that doesn't sound like a bad idea." Wheeljack sad.

"I concur." Perceptor agreed.

"Great. I always knew I was working with idiots, but I never had a reason to point it out." Red Alert sighed angrily, "So here it is: You're idiots."

"No, seriously, you're really stressed right now, Alert. I can tell. Go get some salve for Jetstorm and cool off, and by the time you're finished with him I'm sure you'll be calm enough to work efficiently." Wheeljack said. "Me and Percy can watch the twins while you're out, can't we, Percy?"

"Of course. We are more than qualified and capable to care for them in your absence." Perceptor informed, "And Wheeljack, I believe I told you before that I would prefer to be addressed as –"

"Then it's settled! Whaddaya say, Alert?"

She frowned. "Fine. But if his viz scanners start to glaze over again…"

"Bye, Alert." Wheeljack waved his servo. She huffed, but soon marched out of Jetfire's view, the doors making a swooshing sound as she left.

"I'm not sure if it is wise to aggravate her when she is already in a state of frustration." Perceptor objected.

"She can take it." Wheeljack replied with a shrug, "She's tough enough."

"Permission to be asking question." Jetfire spoke up.

"Vat is it, brother?" Jetstorm asked.

"Am vanting to know…vat happened yesterday? I remember losing consciousness after fighting Dirge…but vat is after that? How is all of you being back?"

The lack of memories had been tugging at Jetfire for quite some time. It was like a big blank of events that had happened, and he had no clue how he had gotten to this point. Without that blank being filled, he would have to just keep asking himself questions, speculating, until he went crazy.

"Woah, woah, hold up. Yesterday?" Wheeljack clarified.

"Yes. Yesterday."

Jetstorm squeezed his servo again, this time more comforting than loving. Jetfire looked up at him, confused at the change in mannerisms. His twin looked very serious, which was uncommon for him.

"Brother…you have been asleep for almost half a deca-cycle."

"Half a deca-cycle…!?" Jetfire repeated, shocked.

Perceptor adjusted his visor. "It appears that we have a lot of matters to discuss."

* * *

**Just wanted to point out that the whole thing about the light was something that I read somewhere about people who died of grief or almost died being fixated on something. That could be totally wrong, but I faintly remember knowing that. Either way, I thought it was a cool literary technique thing XD**


	3. If Speed's a Pro

**Mixed feelings on this one. I think it was a good idea but it didn't translate well or something when I went to write it.**

* * *

If Blurr wanted to be anywhere in particular at the moment, he definitely didn't want to be here.

And yet, here he was. Surrounded by loud, gruff `bots he didn't know who only seemed to want to stare at him. Well, them and Cliffjumper. But Blurr didn't know if his presence even counted for anything. Surely he wasn't going to be much support for real conversation or anything of the sort. If anything, he was just going to be a dead weight that Blurr would be forced to drag back to his home. A painfully slow drag.

Maccadam's had closed for awhile after what was starting to be called the 'Great Spark Removal'. Or at least, that's what Optimus had been calling it in his speeches and public announcements. The name had stuck, even if Blurr didn't feel like it really fully expressed the extent of the event. He had his own title for it. 'Nightmare'. Nobot else seemed to want to think about it negatively, though. It was like they were trying to forget what had happened, or else make it less horrifying than it was.

Blurr was never going to be able to forget it.

Anyways, since the Oil House had been temporarily out of commission due to the repairs to some of the skyline that Unicron had crushed and the emotional repairs to everybot involved, Cliffjumper had made Blurr promise that they would hit it on the first day it reopened. Feeling guilty over leaving his friend stasis cuffed on that fateful solar cycle not so long ago, he unwillingly obliged with a fake smile and enthusiasm. Besides, if Cliffjumper was ready for a drink that meant he was recovering well. He had been afraid for awhile that his injuries were mortal, or else he would be incapacitated permanently, but the medibots had patched him up rather quickly and he seemed to be doing fine.

Actually, Blurr really had a reason to celebrate rather than Cliffjumper, who probably was just suffering from a withdrawal. He was doing better about that though. The council and Blurr had urged him to go to a rehab, which he claimed he had been attending. This small trip was not likely a part of their step plan, or whatever they used, but Blurr was going to let him do it this one time. After that he was supposed to be his accountability partner, trailing him down and making sure he stuck to the program.

He could tell that Cliffjumper wasn't a bad as before. He hadn't had nearly as many rounds as he usually did, and it looked like he was about done. The way he took in his surroundings made him appear satisfied. That was a good thing. True, he was still fairly drunk, but not at all close to as intoxicated as he used to get. Most of his comments were reasonable and not as slurred.

Cliffjumper stirred his finger in his half empty cup. "Howsit feel?"

"How does what feel?" Blurr replied.

"Y'know what I mean."

Blurr smiled. He was talking about his reinstatement. Sure, it hadn't exactly _happened_ yet, but just the fact that Optimus finally realized he was ready was good enough for him. He couldn't wait until he got to go back to running for a living. Until he got to flip out his badge and explain his credentials to everybot he came in contact with. His life was starting to get normal again. At last!

Of course, there were two setbacks. One was the announcement that Intel was not going to be operating quite the same. But that was expected. Blurr was actually surprised they hadn't done this earlier. Since the war was over there was no real need to spy on Decepticon activity anymore, even more so now since Autobot-Decepticon relations were supposed to be changing. Or so the rumors suggested. That didn't matter much to Blurr, though. He was fine with working with Autobot cases and perhaps other life-forms that had threatened Cybertronian life before. Like Quintessons.

The second one was more of a burden to Blurr, and he didn't like thinking about it. Didn't want to think about it. Too late.

"It feels great, Cliffjumper. Really great." He said halfheartedly.

"Doesn't sound like it. Wus the matter, Blurr? You've always got a lot to say, `specially `bout stuff like this. I thought ya wanted to…" He trailed off, putting two and two together. "Oh…that. I heard about that. Ya okay?"

"I suppose I could be doing better, but in the light of all that I've already been through recently, which you know too well about, I'm doing fine."

"Well…if ya wanna talk `bout it…"

"That's what started all of my problems, Cliffjumper. Talking about it." Blurr replied sharply. Then he softened up, "Thank you for your offer, though, it really means a lot. If I knew it would help me I would have taken it, but I appreciate your concern nonetheless."

Optimus had set him up with a counselor. A therapist. A psychiatrist. A shrink. Whatever you call them. At first Blurr hadn't objected at all to the idea. In fact, it had sounded like it would do him some good. And it was the only concern that Optimus had about redeploying him as an agent. In Cliffjumper's official report his relapse had been fully described, but only from Bumblebee's point of view. Nobot had actually asked Blurr what had happened. Nobot really knew if it could happen again.

It had started out decently. The medibot that talked to him was a nice enough `bot, and he truly seemed to care about his pain. They didn't discuss much about the actual event, just beat around the bush for a megacycle or two. Blurr spilled his guts on how much he loved his job, some of the earliest memories he had, what generally made him emotional, things like that. The medibot nodded, asked a few basic questions, and wrote down practically everything he said. Blurr had been surprised that he was able to keep up with him, since the `bot never once made him slow down.

Then they hit it. The real reason why their meeting had been called. Once again, it began rather well. Nice and easy. That didn't last long.

Everything came back, as clear as if it had happened the solar cycle before. After the medibot had gotten Blurr to calm down, he gave him a quick diagnosis. His psychological trauma was still very present, but only apparent in certain areas as it seemed. Namely, Shockwave. However, as Shockwave was currently in deep stasis that he was not likely coming out of, he didn't pose a threat to Blurr's ability on the field anytime soon.

The medibot decided that they had to find a way for Blurr to forget about the relapse. To make it melt away in the stream of memories (Blurr believed those were his exact words). And the best way to do that was to keep him occupied. Becoming an Intel agent again was the most convenient opportunity they had, so Optimus didn't have much of a choice to reinstate him.

Blurr winced a bit. He hated being excitable. Frenzied. It was the curse that Shockwave had given him that was never going to be able to leave. The flashbacks. The pain. It was better now that he wouldn't be liable to come in contact with his enemy, but he still had the task of keeping himself busy so not as to go into yet another relapse. He knew that forgetting it was out of the question, so being busy was his only option.

"Jetfire woke up yesterday." Cliffjumper announced, most likely on account of the sudden lack of conversation.

"That's great to hear! Is he alright?"

"Fine. Other than the fact he tried to offline himself durin' the first few megacycles. But once he realized Jetstorm wus okay he decided not to."

"What a relief. After hearing all that pain in his voice, which you probably didn't hear because you weren't close enough, which I apologize again for stasis cuffing you, I was more than very worried about him."

Cliffjumper downed the rest of his last cup and looked at Blurr intently. "Hey…if yer blue…and I'm red…does that make our friendship…purple?"

"What are you talking about?" Blurr asked, not sure how they got to this.

"I'm…not sure…'s what _I'm_ tryin' to figure out." Cliffjumper replied, shaking his head.

"You've definitely have had enough to drink. If this isn't your last one, then I would advise you to-"

"Slaggit! Hold that thought."

Cliffjumper suddenly got up, pushing his empty cup down the counter. He slunk over to one of the side exits, faster than Blurr had seen him move before. Too fast for Blurr to even react, oddly enough. He just blinked as he slipped through the door, having absolutely no idea why Cliffjumper abruptly had to leave.

"Blurr? Oh, Blurr, it's you!"

Oh. Now it made sense.

Blurr turned to see the cheery form of Rosanna walking toward him. She looked so out of place among the barely-lit facility full of tough-looking mechs and a few femmes of the same caliber, her pink aura illuminating the area around her.

"Hello, Rosanna, how are you doing today?" Blurr greeted, giving a quick glare toward some mechs who had taken too much of an interest in her.

"Great, thanks!" She smiled.

"So, what are you doing here, exactly? Not that it's wrong for you to be here or anything, because you're a femme or anything like that, I just wouldn't have thought of you as the oil type, per se."

"Same with you."

"I'm not much of a drinker, in fact, I can't stand more than one very disgusting corrosive sip of the stuff." He explained, "But I'm usually coerced into coming to places like this by my friends, of all `bots."

"That's too bad." She replied, "I came because I heard that I could find Cliffjumper around here."

Looks like Cliffjumper escaped just in time. What a shame. Blurr would've liked to see what would've happened. Would Cliffjumper have blown up at her or, for once in his life, be kind to this femme? Instead of revealing his friend's location though, Blurr knew it was best to keep it a secret. Cliffjumper would not be happy with him he did. Not happy at all.

"Well, he's not here right now, unfortunately, but if I see him around here again I'll be sure to tell you."

"So he was here earlier!?" She brightened.

Wrong way to phrase that. "Uh…yeah, he grabbed a drink and went but, if I am correct, which I pretty much usually am, he's not probably going to come back any time later, that is relatively soon…today."

"Oh. That's too bad." She frowned. "I really wanted to tell him something…"

"Uh…" He hated it when she looked sad, "Who knows? I may run into him again, considering he's my boss and all and we generally cross paths for work and all. I could relay the message for you and we could save time."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Well…okay then!" She said. "Here it is!"

Before Blurr could realize what she was doing, Rosanna leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. He could feel his faceplate burning red as whistling filled the Oil House. What a time to have everybot looking at him. The strange sensation of the touch was pulsating through him, and it only intensified his blush. He wanted to run out of there right then, but he couldn't leave Rosanna here all alone. Was that coolant leaking from his helmet?

It was then he realized that he never had been kissed by a femme before.

She pulled back with a smile, which quickly faded when she saw his uncomfortable expression."Oh…I'm sorry…did I…?"

"No-No-No….it's okay, absolutely fine, no problem!" He insisted, "I-I-I just don't think that it would be the best thing, exactly, for me to pass that on, not that the idea isn't nice and all, but I think it would be better if…you did it."

"You think?"

He nodded frantically, abnormally unable to conjure up any words, sensible or not.

"Okay then! I guess I'll just have to wait until I see him at the Hall of Records." She paused, "Oh my! Look at the time! I have to get back to work! See you later!"

He waved goodbye as she made her way back to the main entrance, practically skipping as she did so. Then when she was gone, he shrunk down in the view of the crowd in the bar, some looking like they were inclined to come up and congratulate him. He didn't want their congratulations about as much as he didn't want their attention. If they were actually listening instead of just watching they would have understood the mishap.

Rosanna hadn't intended any harm. She wasn't making some kind of romantic advance toward him. She was just being herself, and obviously hadn't thought over what kind of message she wanted to give to Cliffjumper. A message that any mech wouldn't be able to pass on. Well, any _decent_ mech. And Blurr considered himself a decent mech. Even if he wasn't a mech, though, the thought of kissing Cliffjumper was rather unnerving, if not horrifying.

Speaking of him…

"Cliffjumper, the coast is clear." Blurr said after activating his commlink.

"Thank the Allspark. Whaddid she want?"

"Nothing important, from what I could tell. It was something about a datapad you had on hold and how she had it ready for you and if you didn't pick it up soon the hold would be cancelled or something like that. Oh, and you had to get it directly from her." Blurr quickly prayed that Cliffjumper really did have a datapad on hold.

"_That's_ why she's been callin' me over `n over again! Okay, if its just that, I guess`ll hafta go see her tomorrow. I need that datapad soon."

And that was what Blurr liked to call 'poetic justice'.


	4. Never Felt So At Home

"Yes! I did it!" Hot Shot shouted as the success slide appeared on the TV screen. "I finally won!"

He jumped up from the makeshift couch, starting to dance along with the music from the game. It wasn't very coordinated, and he almost ended up dancing his way back into the wall several times. The movements were so sporadic that it wouldn't have been surprising if his flamethrowers had randomly decided to go off. He finished it with a victory pose, jabbing his pointer finger triumphantly into the air, as if he was expecting applause.

Bumblebee was laughing so hard that he wasn't able to set the poor `bot straight. Fortunately, Sari was more composed than he was.

"Actually, Hot Shot…I won." She corrected.

Hot Shot's chestplate instantly deflated, his morale destroyed. "But that's my player in the winner's circle!"

"No. That's me. I'm Diddy Kong. See?" Sari pointed at the character resembling an organic creature called a 'monkey', "You're Jigglypuff. Over there. The pink one."

The two mechs took a quick look at the pink blob she was referring to, and Bumblebee couldn't help but burst into laughter again. He pressed his servo over his mouth to try and calm down, but every time he glanced back at Hot Shot's disgusted faceplate or the creature he had unknowingly chosen as his own, the giggles escaped through his fingers. It was quite obvious that video games were not something that came naturally to Hot Shot.

"Pink!?" He cried, horrified, "Why the slag am I the pink one!?"

"Don't ask me." She shrugged, "You picked it."

"Well can I change it to something less…femme-y?" Hot Shot asked.

"Sure. We can start over right now." Sari aimed the controller over and began to reset the game.

"While you're at it, you might want to maybe teach him the controls again." Bumblebee interjected.

"What? I know the controls fine!" He replied, clearly offended.

"So that's why you kept running off of the platforms?"

"Just need more practice…s'all…" Hot Shot frowned and crossed his servos.

"Why don't you teach him, Bumblebee?" Sari offered, "You're better than me at this game anyways."

"Nah. You go on ahead. I'll just watch." He insisted.

Sari stared at him for about a nanoclick in disbelief. "Okay then. If that's what you want."

Bumblebee was surprised that he didn't have an overwhelming desire to join in the game as well. There usually wasn't a time that he didn't want to play. Especially when he had the opportunity to show off his superior skills to someone so mediocre at playing like Hot Shot. But he was oddly satisfied at just sitting back and watching. Enjoying. Living. It felt good to know that everything was finally in a state of somewhat-order.

That Sari was no longer in a life-or-death situation.

Watching her having fun, playing video games, living normally once again gave him all the satisfaction that he ever needed. He sighed and leaned back, stretching his stabilizing servos out on the bench in front of him. It had been such a long, stressful time since he had been able to relax at the Plant. Last time he was here he had been bickering with Perceptor over the lack of knowledge to save Sari. Now he didn't have to worry if she would still be alive tomorrow or not. For the time being, at least. Until the time arrived for him to be concerned one more, he would revel in the present serenity. He only hoped it would last longer than the recent period of peace they had.

Hot Shot was on Earth for a temporary and self-dubbed 'deserved' vacation. Though what he did that was so strenuous to deserve it was beyond everyone else but himself. True, he had helped with the jobs created to repair the city, but so had almost everybot else that wasn't hospitalized during the time. Bumblebee figured his real reason for coming was either to get out of any other work other `bots might try to pile on him. Or to spend more time with Sari.

Bumblebee hated to admit it, but he was incredibly jealous of Hot Shot, and not because of his lousy video games skills. He had gotten to go through an important part of their lives with Sari, while Bumblebee had been left in the dark, not even aware that they were still present as ghosts on Cybertron until he had heard Sari whispering to him. Telling him that he was her best friend, that she loved him, and she would miss him when she was gone (which fortunately never happened). Apparently Prowl had been lifting her up when she said it. He felt awful that he hadn't realized that he had been there, right next to him, and he had missed it!

Bumblebee knew that this was not only selfish but stupid, but he wished that he had had his spark taken too. That he had been with Sari instead of searching desperately for a way to save her and everybot else. Of course, he also knew that he wouldn't have liked to deal with the repercussions. Whenever he asked Sari about what it had been like to have her spark wrenched away from her, she had locked up and refused to say anything about it. He respected her privacy and decided it was best not to remind her of it ever again.

If anything, the whole notion of being jealous of Hot Shot was stupid. He was a good `bot, and had qualities that reminded Bumblebee of himself. No wonder he and Sari had hit it off as friends so quickly. No wonder he and Bumblebee had done the same. Besides, here was Sari, spending time with both of them equally. It wasn't like she had chosen to almost die.

As he zoned back into reality he realized that the next round of the game had been going on for some time now. Hot Shot, rid of his Jigglypuff persona and manning Star Fox instead, was doing considerably better than before. It actually looked like he faintly knew what he was doing. Sari was still kicking his gearshaft into the next century, but this improvement showed that he had promise as a player. Eventually.

"Hey, BB." Sari asked, leaning back to look at him, "D'ya think it was bad for me to upgrade myself?"

"Uh... there are pros and cons I guess…" He said quickly, not prepared for a question geared in that direction.

"Like…?"

"Like…" He fumbled around for an answer, "Like you can fight with us now. You've got super-cool powers and stuff."

"And the cons?"

He felt his faceplate grow red. "Well…uh…you just grew up a little fast…and it takes some time to get used to…uh…that. That's all. Not much of a real con if you think about-"

"If I hadn't upgraded myself, Dirge wouldn't have used my power and he wouldn't have been able to take all those sparks." She said solemnly. She wasn't paying much attention to the game anymore, inattentively guiding the remote around. Hot Shot, on the other hand, was over-concentrating, his viz scanners glued to the screen.

"Don't say that. He could've used anybot."

"No one else had part of the Allspark inside of them."

That was true. Bumblebee wasn't sure if he had a comeback to that. But he had to find some way to cheer her up. Her complexion was growing bluer and bluer as they continued on. He was afraid this would somehow cause her spark-removal to come up, and that she would go into a mode of silence again, just as she did whenever he purposefully tried to get her to talk about it. It hurt enough when he did it on purpose; he didn't want to do it on accident either.

"Well…" Wait. That was it! "The Allspark! It was the one in control of your key! Like all the times it forced you to use it or didn't let you use it!"

"And that means…?"

"It wouldn't have let you use it on yourself unless it knew that it would be alright there." Bumblebee explained, suddenly feeling very intelligent at figuring all this out on his own. "It wanted you to upgrade yourself."

She brightened for a nanoclick, then frowned. "What about Soundwave? It let me charge him too, and look at all the problems he's caused!"

"Nothing too bad, though. We've beat his gearshaft twice, and if he's ever going to show up around here we'll do it again! Your key brought him online, but I think the Allspark limited what he was able to do. It made sure that he wouldn't be too much of a threat. And you learned a lesson from all that, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember." She smiled, "No one was really hurt from what Dirge did…so I guess the Allspark worked with that too, right?"

"Er…right!" Bumblebee felt it was best not to tell her of the few `bots that had gone offline because of complications with their sparks, or who had just never got back to their chassis. She had enough on her mind and conscience as is.

"That's a relief. I was starting to think that upgrading myself was something really horrible." She sighed, then resumed playing the game properly. Hot Shot groaned as the damage on his character increased dramatically. "As for the powers, I agree, they're really sweet! Dad said he's going to try to build some sorta training place for me to practice. I don't know if he'll be able to do it, though."

"Hey, if he can make Wii-motes big enough for me to hold, then he can do _anything_!" Hot Shot insisted, shaking said remote vigorously. Bumblebee watched his movements carefully, waiting for the moment when his grip would slip and something in the room would be broken.

"I dunno if I really want a training arena, though. I think I have enough control over my powers."

Bumblebee was about to tell her that he thought an arena would actually be pretty cool when the sound of cheerful singing drifted from the entrance to the Plant.

"With great power comes great responsibility! That's the catchphrase of old Uncle Ben!"

"Wreck-Gar!" Sari exclaimed, recognizing the voice. She paused the game, much to the dismay of Hot Shot, and ran over to meet him.

Wreck-Gar looked about the same as he had been when Bumblebee had last seen him. Standing tall, singing fairly off-key, and a goofy smile on his faceplate. He had a new Autobrand to replace the one he lost in the river, now proudly displayed on his chestplate, oddly the only part of his chassis that didn't seem to be at least slightly dirty. He must often clean it to keep it in a heroically good shape. There was an ugly green couch in his right servo which he swung back and forth in perfect rhythm with his song.

"If you missed it, don't worry, they'll say the line…again and again and-" He had continued walking even after Sari had spoken up, and didn't stop until he had almost stepped on her, as if he just noticed her. "Oh! Hello there, Sari, commander of the Substitute Autobots!"

"Wreck-Gar, the Substitute Autobots are disbanded, remember?"

He blinked. "It is?" Using his free servo, he reached back into his pack, searching frantically for something. When it came back into view, a pile of rubber bands had appeared in the middle of his palm, "Will these help fix it?"

"No, no. You can't do anything to fix it."

"Then…what will I call you? Sari, commander of the now-disbanded Substitute Autobots?" He asked.

"How about just 'Sari'." She offered with a smile.

"Oh, whew." Wreck-Gar breathed out, "That sounds like a lot less of a mouthful to say."

"That's the point." Sari informed. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"That's right! I needed to come here for something…now what was it again…" He mumbled, returning the rubber bands back to his pack and tapping the couch against his thigh. "Oh! Yeah! I wanted to know if Ratchet was around so that I could show him _this_!" Wreck-Gar thrust the couch high in the air, reminding Bumblebee of Hot Shot's victory stance.

Everyone stared at Wreck-Gar for almost half a cycle, not sure of what to say. Hot Shot looked like he was going to make a derogatory comment, but both Sari and Bumblebee gave him a look that made him step back. He didn't know Wreck-Gar or understand his unique nature.

"…sorry, Wreck-Gar, but Ratchet's still on Cybertron with Arcee." Sari explained, "As soon as he comes back, though, you can show him."

Bumblebee imagined Ratchet's flustered faceplate as he was welcomed back to Earth with that couch and restrained his laughter for Wreck-Gar's sake.

"And when will that be?" The young `bot asked.

"Uh…sometime soon, I'm sure."

"How long is soon?"

"It…it doesn't have a specific time. 'Soon' is just not…a long way's away, I guess."

"Too bad. Too bad." Wreck-Gar shook his head, "Well, I guess that means I better be heading off. Got official Autobot business to do, y'know."

And with that he walked back the way he came, continuing his little song from where he left off. They all watched him as he departed, Sari slowly waving 'good-bye' even though Wreck-Gar wouldn't see it.

"…What was his malfunction?" Hot Shot asked warily.

"We'll have to tell you some other time. It's kinda complicated." Bumblebee said, grinning.

The game was quickly started up again, but Bumblebee didn't watch as closely as he had before. He was focusing more on the players than the actual game. Sari and Hot Shot, both laughing and having fun, even with the latter sorely beat every round. The innocent happiness surrounding them was something that actual made Bumblebee think of Wreck-Gar, the never –failing optimist. Times like these were deserved of such joy. Everything that had happened, the pain and suffering, was over.

Slag, it was good to be home.

* * *

**A thousand Whose Line points to the one who knows what song Wreck-Gar was singing. **


	5. A Brand New Start

Rodimus looked out the window as he walked down the hall. He could see the construction across town in the distance, `bots still at work fixing the exteriors of several buildings. Most of the major repairs were already done, but there were some small details on certain structures that had yet to be completed. He was surprised that so many `bots had come together to finish this so quickly, but it made sense. This event had impacted their lives so dramatically. Less than a fourth of the population on Cybertron had been spared from having their sparks removed by Dirge. Two of those few actually happened to be members of his team.

Ironhide and Brawn gave him an official report about the incident as soon as he regrouped with them. Well, as close to official as possible. It mostly consisted of Ironhide spouting out facts rapidly and without explanation while Brawn attempted to translate what he was saying into something they all would understand.

After they had brought Rodimus, Hot Shot, and Red Alert back to Cybertron to be tested, the council had been convened to talk about actions to be done on account of this anomaly that had happened to the members of the space bridge team. Ironhide and Brawn had been requested to join, being the only witnesses in this case. The session had still been in process when Dirge had struck, leaving only the two of them and a `bot named Perceptor with sparks. They had tried to get out, but the Metroplex had somehow gone into a lockdown. Cliffjumper had found a way, but when they were about to leave Unicron appeared. Perceptor had suggested that it was best to stay inside, so inside they stayed. Everything past that was general knowledge.

A lot of jobs had been created to renew the city as soon as the leaders got back to their senses. Picking up rubble. Repairing buildings. Medibots for the injured and emotionally unstable. And…collecting bodies.

Rodimus inwardly shuddered. Duties had been given out randomly to `bots who had no construction skills. Since he wasn't a particularly good construction-bot, he had gotten into that lot. The job assigned to him was designated 'street cleaner', but he soon found out its real meaning. Hot Shot had been 'in the same boat' (a phrase he was now using like crazy, though Rodimus had no idea where he had heard it from), only because he had lied on his application. Of course, he could do construction! One of the only things those flamethrowers were good for was welding. But he had figured that if he said that he would've gotten an easier task.

Rodimus guessed he had deserved lugging around offline chassis for a few solar cycles because of his dishonesty.

Apparently some chassis were injured when Unicron hit the planet or were too weak to sustain themselves, so their sparks weren't able to make the journey back. It had really been a rather easy job from a physical level. Just walking around to the last place an energy signal had been located, then carrying it back to the morgue. On an emotional level, though, it was almost impossible to bear. Seeing all those `bots who had so much to live for destroyed by a sick and selfish campaign was depressing. Why had some like Rodimus made it back, but they hadn't?

Hot Shot hadn't been able to take it, and as soon as the first required shift was over he had hitched a ride with Bumblebee and Sari to Earth on the pretense of a 'vacation'. Only Rodimus really knew that it was actually an escape from all of the carnage.

Funerals were held in all of those `bots' honors, almost all of them headed by Optimus Magnus himself. Rodimus couldn't figure out whether it was another appeal for an increase in his popularity, or because their leader really cared.

No. That was rude. Rodimus had gotten to know Optimus a lot more recently, and he knew that he wasn't that kind of `bot. He was truly compassionate and always put the needs and interests of his people first. And at the moment, the people needed remembering.

Ultra Magnus had been one of the chassis that had been laid to rest. The sight of their former leader completely gray was as shocking as it was expected. Everybot had been preparing for it since the assassination attempt, whether consciously or not. His eulogies had been especially long, far longer than any of the others, though nobot seemed to mind. Somehow he still had a considerably high rating.

In the midst of this, Rodimus had noticed something rather odd: the distinct lack in a funeral for Sentinel. In fact, it was like nobot realized he was gone yet, or something like that. Knowing his dangerously low appeal, there should be cheering in the streets for stellar cycles to come. Or some sort of celebration held in honor of his death. Not that anything of the sort would happen; Optimus would've have severely punished anybot who had taken part in it. Rodimus didn't fret over this ignorance, though. It was something he'd figure out later.

"Rodimus!"

He looked up to see Red Alert walking toward him with two other sciencebots at her side. Their names suddenly escaped him, but he knew he had seen them before. If his memory served correctly, the one with the yellow circle on his helmet had a particularly bland voice pattern, and the taller one was explosion-happy. He could remember hearing the blasts in the background of several of Red Alert's video conferences with them.

Oh! That was right! Their names were Wheeljack and Perceptor!

"Hey, Alert." He greeted.

"Heard you have a meeting with Optimus Magnus." She said, "Must be something big. Not that I know anything about it."

"Which you do not." Perceptor reminded with deliberate pauses between each word, his own way of emphasizing without betraying the slightest emotion.

Rodimus quickly figured out the meaning behind their odd behavior. Perceptor held a seat on the council as the representative from the Ministry of Science. The council probably convened earlier and discussed whatever Optimus had summoned him to speak about. Then Red Alert (and possibly Wheeljack, though Rodimus didn't know how nosy he was) coaxed this information out of him, as gently as possible with Red Alert doing it. The poor mech must have been nagged nonstop until he couldn't take it anymore. Rodimus was glad he hadn't been in his situation. This time.

But that also meant that whatever this meeting was going to be about was highly important.

"Yeah, I am going to see him." Rodimus replied, "And I'm sure we'll talk about that something you don't know anything about."

"I'm sure of it too." Wheeljack added, confirming Rodimus's suspicions.

"It seems crucial to remove the details from my processor and upload it to my secure backup the next time I attend a council meeting." Perceptor said, adjusting his visor.

"Oh that." Wheeljack waved his servo, "Don't bother. I already know the access codes."

Perceptor blinked. "It seems crucial that I modify the codes as soon as I sedate Wheeljack for precaution of an accidental discovery."

"Aw, Percy, you know you wouldn't do that to me."

"I informed you earlier-"

"Look at us, still talking when there's science to do!" Wheeljack exclaimed, cutting Perceptor off.

"'Science to do'?" Red Alert asked, amused.

"It's either add the verb 'do' or turn 'science' into a verb itself. And 'sciencing' doesn't sound quite as official, now does it?" He explained, "Anyways, we need to get back to the twins soon."

"Slaggit, I hate it when you're right."

"You should have gotten used to it by now."

She ignored this and turned to Rodimus. "Sorry. I'll have to check up on you again later."

"That's fine." He insisted, "Besides, then we'll get to talk all about this stuff you don't know anything about."

"I can't wait."

They said their goodbyes and hurriedly departed, the sciencebots headed back to the opposite end of the corridor, Rodimus to the ominous office of Optimus Magnus. He was suddenly incredibly nervous. What could he possibly want to meet with him for, the leader of a space bridge team? And something important enough to go through the council first…?

The door to the office was already opened, and after a deep breath Rodimus knocked on the side, not wanting to enter uninvited.

Optimus looked up, startled. He had been typing on the keyboard in front of him which was attached to one of many screens on his desk. He looked tired and worn out, but that wasn't anything new for a Magnus.

"Oh, hello Rodimus."

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Rodimus asked, taking the greeting as an approval to come in. He walked up to the desk slowly. "Did I come too early?"

"No, no. I'm just running a little behind on another eulogy. It can wait, though, I suppose." He pushed the keyboard aside, "It's hard to think of anything creative when its become…so repetitive."

It was then Rodimus realized that there was only one `bot who hadn't received a eulogy yet. Optimus had to be working on _that_ one.

He felt his insides knot up a bit. Rodimus was unwillingly reminded of the past, things he had done. A guilt washed over him, both for interrupting Optimus now of all times and for his actions.

"I…uh…I'm sorry for what I said to him. Right before he went." Rodimus said softly. "It was disrespectful and out of line, since I wasn't even really on the council and..."

"Don't beat yourself up about it. Sentinel deserved everything that you said to him." Optimus replied, "In fact, I'd say that all of his comments before you spoke up were much more disrespectful and out of line."

Rodimus bit down hard to keep himself from letting his mouth hang open. It made it difficult to talk, but it was worth not looking so stupid. "But, sir…"

"It's alright Rodimus. Besides, I didn't call you here to talk about Sentinel." He paused, "What do you think about the Decepticons?"

The question took him by surprise almost as much as Optimus's dismissal of his rudeness toward his offline friend. Decepticons? He wanted to know about his opinion on that? Well, let's see: Scum of the universe. Evil brutes. Always lying. Monsters. Tried to slagging _offline_ him with cosmic rust. For some reason, though, Rodimus had the feeling that this wasn't the kind of answer his leader was wanting out of him. He thought it over for a nanoclick more before replying.

"In a word: Complicated."

"And in two words?"

Rodimus blinked. "Uh…very complicated. Sir."

"That's three words, Rodimus." Optimus said with a smile, "And, please. Stop with the formalities."

"Okay…" He struggled to think of what to call him instead of 'sir' and ended up with nothing. "Okay."

"I'd like to know why you think Decepticons are complicated."

"Well…they are violent and brutal to us…" Rodimus admitted, "But, I wonder whether that's partially our fault."

"Really?"

"We took away the only home they had. If they didn't have a reason to try to kill us on a regular basis before, after we drove them off they definitely did." He explained, "It's not exactly what I learned from the history vids…but it's something I kinda figured on my own. One of the bases of hostility is territorial protection."

"How did you come to this conclusion?"

Rodimus didn't understand where this was all heading. To him it seemed that Optimus was just asking him random questions about their mortal enemies. But was there something hiding behind those seemingly innocent questions, ready to strike while he was unprepared. He nervously rapped a finger on his side as he considered his next answer.

"Probably when Megatron offered to join forces. I'd never seen a `con do something like that before."

"And why do you think he did that?"

"He wanted to protect himself, most likely." He said with a shrug, "But there's the chance he was also concerned about his forces and the home he had been fighting so hard to reclaim."

"So what should we do with them?"

"With who, sir?" Rodimus asked, then shook his head, "I mean…I didn't mean to say 'sir' right then. Sorry. Force of habit."

"The Decepticons."

Of course. He should've known. "I'm not sure. I personally don't know too much about everything they've done…but I have a feeling you already have an idea with what to do."

Optimus nodded. "They seemed willing to work with us in the middle of a crisis…so with some time I don't see why they won't be able to be cooperative all the time. Of course…they will have to spend their share in the stockade, but I think we can improve conditions there so it won't be quite so bad."

"Is that possible?"

"I…I'm not sure. But I'm going to try. If we show them kindness, maybe they'll finally learn." He informed, "Before they assimilate back to Cybertron, we'd give them a trial period on a colony nearby. At least they wouldn't be in the stockade the whole time…freedom is the right of all sentient beings."

"Do you think the council will agree with you?"

"It matters. Do you think they should act on their pain, or on doing what is right?"

"I'd do what is right. And becoming allies with the Decepticons is the only way of stopping all of this fighting." He stopped, then added, "Not that I don't think we're capable of defeating them by force, but that could just end in more casualties for us as well."

"Exactly." Optimus stood up, "Alright, then. I've made my decision."

"About the `cons?"

"No. About you."

About him? How had anything they had been talking about apply to him? They had spent cycles on Decepticons, and now they were just suddenly changing the subject? As Optimus approached, Rodimus thought he could hear the wheels in his own processor turning, trying to find out what was going on.

"With Sentinel gone…well, I don't really have anybot that I know and trust to be my successor. Not that he would've been the best either…" He sighed, giving a sad smile, "But then I met you. You have a lot of potential, Rodimus. I'd heard a lot about your reputation before."

No. No, he couldn't be serious! Rodimus's spark beat so fast that it threatened to overload itself. "Isn't too early to be thinking about that?" He asked uneasily, wondering if this was all a set up of some kind.

"It's never too early to be preparing. Especially in these times when everything is so spontaneous." Optimus said, "Who would've known that Dirge would have attacked when he did?"

"But…but I'm not qualified at all…I…I…"

"Ironhide said you would be modest and refuse my offer."

"I…you spoke with Ironhide?"

"Yes. And with Brawn and Red Alert. They really respect you, you know that?" Optimus replied, "You should be proud. They're proud of you."

"This is all so sudden." Rodimus confessed, "I'm…I can't think straight. Sorry."

"Don't apologize. I had the same reaction when Ultra Magnus chose me." He reassured, "But unlike me, you actually want this."

Yes. It would be a lie to say that this wasn't what Rodimus wanted. How could it be not what everybot wanted? He could remember when he first made this his goal. All of his friends had laughed at him. Even when he had first confided this to his teammates they had been skeptical. Only Hot Shot had laughed that time, and it was because he had seriously thought it was a joke.

Is that why he was so unsure to believe this was real?

"So…you want _me_ to be your successor?" He asked.

"Nobot else."

"What about my team?" The words felt funny coming out of his mouth. Going back on that asteroid to defend the space bridge? Not something he would usually want. But at the moment it was the only place he really felt like he belonged.

"We're having a bit of a shortage on willing volunteers to man space bridges." Optimus winked, "Anyways, most council members join in via video screen conferences."

"This is all really happening, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

"Wow…" He put his servo over his chestplate in an attempt to slow down his sparkbeat.

"Now that you've got that straightened out, do you accept?" Optimus asked.

Rodimus looked straight at his leader with a newfound awe. He was serious. He was really serious. Well, there was only one thing to say to that.

"When do I start?"

* * *

**Now its really over D: Wow...Its done...**

**Anyways. Points for those who can find the Portal and Azumanga Daioh references!**

**Also, questions about the series are encouraged, as I purposefully didn't write some `bots' fates. You can ask about stuff that's already happened, stuff I didn't talk about, etc. If you are asking about characters that I didn't write too much of, though, a fair warning: I am not J.K. Rowling who has ever character that says more than two lines's future mapped out twenty years past (okay, over-exaggerating much). So I'll probably be making it up on the top of my head for that kinda stuff.**

**For all who have stayed with it this far, thank you so incredibly much for your support and kind words!**

**'Til All Are One!**


End file.
